Angel
by grasshopperon
Summary: Curt wallows in memories, Brian gets a startling jolt from the past, and then they each bump into someone they thought they would never see again. CurtBrian
1. Curt

I wrote this fic out of pure desperation after watching the end of the movie and feeling so completely depressed that Curt and Brian didn't end up together. But then I figured it's not possible for two people that love each other so much never ever see each other again, so I created this to show what might happened when they met each other. Takes places a bit after Velvet Goldmine. Cheers!

Disclaimer: unfortunately, I don't own these characters, they're from Velvet Goldmine

Angel

Chapter one: Curt

The man in the corner of the bar downed his drink in one hasty gulp and gazed into the empty glass. His blond hair hung loose like dead spider legs and he shook the mane half-heartedly. Lying crumbled on the table with a ring of perspiration at the center was a ticket to the Tommy Stone concert that would be ending in minutes. He checked his watch and realized he only had a few moments before the crowds swarmed this place, buzzing with excitement and that one name would be ringing in the air, that name that was acid to his ears.

Tommy Stone, Tommy Stone, Tommy Stone...

…_Angel…_

He would have to leave soon if he wanted to escape the onslaught of fans who carelessly repeated that name as though it was candy and having no idea who the hell they were really talking about. Lost in a lie. But he didn't want to leave before he got his money's worth out of his drink, which it was currently failing to do. It was water, flavored with bitter memories of the past.

Stop thinking about it. About...

Him.

It's all past. History. _The curves of your lips rewrite_...Fuck. What the hell was in this drink? Try to get a grip. No, in fact, don't try, DO IT. You're cool, calm, and collective. You're the rock star Curt Wild. You're in a musky bar that you stalked out earlier because you knew you wouldn't be able to make it through the whole concert without a strong retreat. Get a grip! It's not a sunny, clear day, you're not at the beach, you don't feel the waves tickling your toes. And you're definitely not looking into Brian's eyes, those startling blue eyes that were always so easy to get lost in. He isn't pinning that amazing sparkling ornament on to your open shirt and whispering, "Curt, a man's life is his image". You weren't telling him you love him and bringing him into a rough kiss which he isn't eagerly responding to. And now you're not lifting him in your arms as one would cradle a child and carrying him into the sparkling water. He isn't laughing and protesting and squirming, trying to get loose, screaming something about his hair. You haven't got in deep enough so the waves are licking your waist and he hasn't finally stopped his little rebellion and isn't asking you to at least keep his shirt dry. You are not responding that for what you plan, he won't need his shirt anyway.

Curt ran his hands through his hair though couldn't help smiling at the recollection. But his smile faded when he realized what memory was surfacing next. That memory that never strayed far from his mind, no matter how hard he tried to beat it into submission. _…There's nothing in my brain, but some ugly memory, kiss me like the ocean breeze…_ That memory that had haunted him for years later, that at times had driven him to the point of insanity and left him cold and empty and numb. _There's nothing left alive, but some dark glassy eyes, erase my feelin's one more time…_

Why had he lashed out so like a wounded animal that in its blinding pain suddenly panics and snaps back with everything its has left. He felt his eyes go out of focus and the memory replace them. If the purpose of this drink was to escape reality, he thought, then perhaps it was doing a good job.

"Jerry's not going to extend your contract."

Disbelief, even though he knew it would come to this, but it hurt so bad to hear Brian say it. They had been walking tight circles around this point for quite a while, and Brian had finally said the inevitable, and the unthinkable.

"What?" Then anger. "What does he expect me to do? Hang around like some groupie and not make any music of my own! He can't do that."

"He can," the beautiful blues looked icy in contrast to the mascara. "He will. And I think you know why."

"What? What is that supposed to mean!" Brian's eyes clouded a bit and he looked away. "What does--Bri, Brian!" those eyes snapped back, surprised by the use of his full name. "Look at me, what does that mean? What happened to 'smashing' 'tops'!" Curt couldn't remember the other word's Brian had used, in fact he was surprised he had remembered those, but he figured they were enough to prove his point. Brian suddenly softened and came close to Curt, so they were almost touching, and began running his fingers up and down Curt's arms. He looked into Curt's eyes with such intensity, but Curt noticed something different about them, something distorted, as though Brian's body was suddenly very far away but his eyes remained, masked in thick mascara.

"No, Curt, you're not understanding me. I love your music, your voice, your guitar..." he trailed off. "But we're big now. We have to give the fans certain--" He stopped when Curt ripped Brian's hand off his arm and took a few steps back, a look of horror on his face. And rage, great rage, like a phoenix rising from the ashes of twisted agony.

"Oh fuck you," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief and then started screaming, "Fuck you! Can you hear yourself! Fans?_ Fans_! When have you worried about giving the people exactly what they want? I thought we were supposed to defy standards; they love us because we are not what everyone else, because we follow our _own_ rules! I thought we were supposed to be a revolution, supposed to change the world, and you are giving in to fans." Curt took a few steps and it seemed he might calm down but the he swung back, a sudden look of pain on his face liked a dog kicked by someone he thought he could trust and hollered, "I feel like I don't know you anymore! Do you remember what you said? We plan on taking over the world." Curt suddenly felt sobs racking his chest, though not a tear fell. He grabbed Brian and kissed his neck, breathing in his soft scent. "Let's get away, Bri. We can continue to be who we want, we don't need Jerry. We can...we can..." he made to kiss Brian's lips but this time it was Brian who stepped away.

"I can't, Curt. You know that. I need Jerry. The Maxwell Demon needs Jerry." Curt looked up and saw that same distant look in Brian's eyes. He couldn't believe it. What was this? Where was the Brian he knew?

With a venomous rage Curt screamed, "Fine!" like a frustrated child and made to storm out the door. He had reached the door frame and then was struck by a sudden thought that years later he wished he had never, ever been struck with.

"Who," he said with a whisper shaking with hurt, "are you, Brian Slade or the Maxwell Demon?" Brian stood there, startled, like a criminal caught in the act, feeling the pain slowly seep in and like two gaping wounds on his fragile young features his eyes bled tears. Curt whipped out the door and stormed into the street, burning with rage, confusion, and also this deep guilt that had not quite disappeared even to this day. And then those words, awful words, came down hard grinding the pain even deeper still. "Piss off, then! Go on! Back to your wolves! Your junkie twerps! Your bloody shock treatment! And fuck you too!"

How was he supposed to know that when he got in that car he would never see his lover again? Sure, he would see Brian's many disguises, the Maxwell Demon, Tommy Stone, but it wasn't the same. He had waited outside the car, hoping Brian would come running out saying he was sorry, saying he still loved him. But when he looked up towards the window with hopeful eyes, the Maxwell Demon shut the curtain against him. Curt tossed his cigarette into the lawn as though the house might catch fire and burn the Demon out, but it was not to be. That was just a stupid music video, and Demon was there to stay. Could he count those lonely nights he prowled the streets on the smallest hope that he might spot Brian? Could he count the times he had broke down sobbing even in the middle of recording sessions with Jack Fairy? At least Jack had been patient and gave Curt his space and time to recover. Curt silently wondered how Brian released his tears, knowing full well Jerry wouldn't stand for something like an emotional breakdown in the middle of a cut. He silently wondered if Brian cried at all. And as always, time had gone on. Curt eventually replaced the tears for cigarettes, replaced the cigarettes for alcohol. The pain had never really died, just taking different shapes. He wondered now if it ever would go away.

Curt looked up from his sorrow. The young fans began piling in, and the name Tommy stabbed his ears. Shit, he had to get out of here. He clambered as quickly as he could to his feet only to trip over his chair and crash to the floor. So, maybe the drink did do something. He saw a hand hovering above it and grabbed it to right himself.

"Thanks-" Curt stopped ad saw a pair of startling blue eyes staring back at him in equal disbelief.

Thanks for reading my first chapter! You don't know how much I appreciate it. The next chapter will be coming up in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Review for me, and I'll review for you!


	2. Brian

Disclaimer: unfortunately, I don't own these characters, they're from Velvet Goldmine

Angel

Chapter two: Brian

Brian stared at the new face in the mirror of his dressing room. Or rather, the old face. Brian Slade's face. As soon as the concert ended he had ran into his dressing room and like something possessed began furiously scraping off the makeup that his fans had come to know and love as Tommy Stone. Layers and layers of makeup, darkened here and there to give his face an older look. The makeup that took hours to put on he now wiped away and destroyed mercilessly and ignored the raping on the door as all sorts of people tried to get in and fight the lock. Maybe they were reporters, fan girls, or band members; he didn't know.

He didn't care. He had finally got it all off and looked at himself as one might a stranger. Sure, his face had changed over the years; it had lost most of its young, boyish, innocent charm. But it was still Brian Slade. It was still him.

Shannon must have somehow pushed all the people away because the racket became muffled. He heard the knob twisting furiously and she was trying to talk through the door. He wasn't really listening, but he did catch, "Tommy, what happened out there!" Indeed, he looked at that face in the mirror with a questioning gaze as though he expected his reflection to respond, what _had_ happened out there? Out there, on stage, with millions of fans watching his every move. Everything had started out normally enough; the concert had gone almost all the way through without a single interruption. The fans were swooning, the band was playing fine, Tommy Stone was giving the people what they wanted. But then, there was a small glitz in the last song, a shimmer, like from a dream. Through the throng of the crowd his sharp eyes had found something very peculiar, out of place. Someone or something pushing through the crowd, like a trout swimming upstream, a raindrop rising to the heavens, moving towards the exits. Stone's lips moved and his body danced gracefully as though they were not his own but his eyes remained fixed on that one object. As it was exiting, the figure turned and gave Tommy one last glance before disappearing, leaving a single word in its wake.

Curt.

It hit Brian before he knew it was coming and suddenly his throat constricted as old defenses he didn't know he had came tumbling down on him. He felt dizzy as memories pounded him, especially one in particular that still found its way into his dreams, even after all this time. Sunlight, the word came to him, sunlight had woken him up. He remembered now, remembered as clearly as he had never remembered anything else in his life. He had turned over in his bed so he could see Curt better. Curt was still sleeping peacefully, even snoring slightly with the heavy rise and fall of his chest. How innocent he looked in the grip of sleep. Brian wondered if he had ever looked innocent like that, and seriously doubted it. Curt was blinking groggily against the sun and when he saw Brian he smiled and snuggled closer. Brian felt the heat of the day at the back of his head and it must have produced some sort of halo effect because Curt whispered in his ear, "you look like an angel". Brian couldn't have been more surprised at anything else Curt might have said. _Angel_. He had never been called an angel before. Demon, yes, but angel? It had never occurred to him. Curt didn't seem to notice Brian's surprise and brought him into a warm kiss. Whether he was an angel, demon, or immortal that would never have to make the distinction, he couldn't tell. Nor could he care. All he knew was at that moment, he was in heaven.

Supposedly his quick-thinking band who were used to not understanding the things Brian did had come up with some good impromptu. Supposedly he had finished so well the only people who knew there had been a mistake were the band members and Shannon. Supposedly everyone had loved it. Somehow, he couldn't remember any of it. Everything had been a blur from spotting Curt and when it finally came into focus he was looking in the mirror at his own face thinking: _impossible, impossible, impossible…_

It couldn't have been. Could it? But what did it mean? What could he have possibly wanted from Brian? Nothing.

Unless…

Brian tried to shake the thought away, but it came down anyway. Unless Curt missed him, too. Unless Curt still…loved him.

He shuddered and turned away from the mirror. Even if it was true, so what? There was nothing they could do about it, anyway. Millions of fans still thought of him as Tommy Stone. He _was_ Tommy Stone. He could loose everything he had. He would loose his music, his fans…he couldn't go through that again, and not when he had made them his life. But then he looked back into the mirror and he felt his confidence crumble. So why had he removed his disguise in such a frenzy? Well, there was only one way to find out. Tommy took one last look at the mirror and knew the only way to get rid of Brian Slade forever was to get rid of everything that was connected with him. Bri—Tommy slipped on gloves, a thick long jacket, and a wide hat, hoping no one would recognize him even though he knew it was a shabby disguise. On second thought, he grabbed a spare makeup bag in case he spotted someone who might see through the wide hat and he had time to slip away and become Tommy Stone again. Then, making sure no one would see him exit; he set out to find Curt Wild.


	3. Curt and Brian

Thank you SiriusBlackfan5405 (thanks for the nice review! I hope you can view the chapter now), JulezB (I suck at grammar, thanks for the pointer. Does anyone know how I can change it, now?), Dude Wheres My Cheese (LOL! Poor spiders! Thanks for review me and tolerating my laziness! PS: ANYONE WHO LIKES LUPIN/TONKS OR HAN/LEIA READ THIS PERSON!), Winterlove4 (I agree, that was very selfish of Mandy. And they are just the cutest couple ever! I hope this chapter satisfies!), wiseupjanetweiss (thank you! I live off good reviews like yours!)

Disclaimer: unfortunately, I don't own these characters, though I wish badly I owned Curt Wild! And maybe Brian, too, so I can watch them be cute together!

Angel

Chapter three: Curt and Brian

"Bri?" Curt whispered, scanning every inch of Brian's face with his eyes in disbelief. He wanted to trace the curves of Brian's features with his fingers, just to make sure it was him, to make sure this wasn't some cruel joke of his drunken state. Brian suddenly looked very nervous.

"It-it's Tommy--"

"No," Curt growled, "You don't look like goddamn Tommy to me."

"Can't we continue somewhere more private?" Brian offered, ignoring Curt's remark. Curt noticed that same distant look in Brian's eyes, that distant look from that horrible night he wished had never happened.

"Oh," he said, feeling poisonous rage bubbling, "is _Tommy_ afraid of being assassinated?"

Brian gave Curt a dangerous look and sat down at the table that Curt had spent the last ten minutes drinking at. Curt pulled out the chair adjacent to Brian's and looked at the floor.

"I--I'm sorry," he said, still not meeting Brian's gaze. "It's just—I missed you."

He looked up and gave Brian a sort of sad smile.

But Brian didn't return it and instead said coldly, "Well, you should have thought about that before you drove away and left me."

"What!" Curt said, unchecked rage exploding, "_me_ left _you_! You're delusional! You were gone way before I drove away. You were lost in that damn Demon!

"Yeah?" Brian said, his quiet seething making an obvious contrast to Curt as he leaned foreword, "well what about you? You stopped caring about our music, you forgot about our fans. It was obvious by the way you were singing you had stopped putting effort into your songs, that you would rather waste our time spending forty hours," _thirty-six_, Brian quietly told Tommy, "on two bloody cuts!"

"Or maybe," Curt fumed, "I had more on my mind. Like love, for example."

"What did you want me to do?" Brian had lost his cool composure now and was raging madly. "Go along with some crazy scheme of yours and forget all about my music?"

Curt's voice was quieter, shaking not with rage as much as with hurt, "All I ever wanted was your love, and you know that. But you only had love for Maxwell fucking Demon."

Curt was positively brimming with hurt and rage and looked like he might overturn a few tables. Instead he looked away from Brian, swallowed, and tried to melt back into his chair. Brian turned away as well and took a deep breathe.

Curt felt guilt gnawing at him again and realized he was doing something terribly wrong. He had waited nearly ten years for a moment to talk with Brian to fix all the mistakes he had made and take back all the things he had said and hadn't meant. And now that he finally got the opportunity, he had spent it arguing over pointless matters of the past. There was nothing either of them could do about what happened, but maybe Curt could make the future a little better. The awkward silence was making him absolutely crazy and his eyes darted around looking for a place to land. He glanced at Brian and looked away, embarrassed, only to sneak a peak at him again. God, Brian was beautiful. The dim light from the bar haloed his features, enhancing his voluptuous lips and deep blue eyes.

Like an angel.

The waiter appeared suddenly, startling them both.

"Here's your champagne, sir," he said, placing the glass in front of Curt. Curt didn't remember ordering champagne, in fact, he knew he didn't. But, hey, it wasn't the worst mistake a waiter could make, and Curt decided not to waste the opportunity even though he felt Brian looking at him.

"Thanks," Curt told the waiter and turned to Brian, giving him one of his prettiest smiles. "To the loveliest man in Europe," Curt said and raised his glassed slightly towards Brian before taking a large gulp. A little bitter, but it left a nice warm feeling in his throat and that was all that mattered. Brian felt hypnotized by his former lover as a wave of nostalgia hit him with brutal force. This wasn't fair, this torrent of emotions rushing through his body that had become so accustomed to being numb and distant to the real world.

"Don't say that," he said weakly, knowing it was a poor rebuke, but he really couldn't stand the way Curt was looking at him.

"But it's true," Curt replied simply, enjoying being able to watch Brian with such ease and without having to pay for a ticket. "You look like," he paused for a moment to look down at the floor, wondering if he'd be able to get the words out again without loosing his composure. He looked Brian directly in the eyes so Brian might understand the sincerity of the words as he said, "you look like an ang--"

But just at that moment the jukebox hummed to life and Tommy Stone's voice filled every crevice of the bar. They both snapped to the source of the sound and when Curt looked back Brian was gone. Curt jumped to his feet.

"Brian!"

He had grabbed his makeup bag and bolted like a frightened deer. _Idiot, idiot, idiot_. What were you thinking? He had just been under Curt's spell, that's all. He had forgotten who he was for a moment. That was the only explanation to why he had come to close to grabbing Curt by the collar of his jacket and smashing his lips against Curt's. _Fool_, he had to get out of here. He thought he heard Curt call his name, but all he could think about was getting out. OUT. O-U-T.

He came to a jolting stop as he snagged something and fell back into it. Curt had a hold of his arm and a look of confusion stamped on his face.

"I--", Brian began, and realized they were standing only inches away from the cursed jukebox. "Let go of me!" he yelled and Curt hesitated only a moment before he released his grip. Brian pulled himself away but now had less of a desire to run and just stood there watching Curt. "I—this is stupid," Brian said, infinitely calmer now but a struggle raw in his voice. "I am Tommy Stone now. I have millions of fans that rely on me to remain that way. I have a band that needs me to sing for them; I have gigs set up for months ahead." He was in his element now, he was Tommy Stone again. He calmed down considerably. "I just came to tell you to stop coming to my concerts and leave me alone. I am not Brian anymore, you have to realize that. Okay?"

Curt nodded slightly, playing distractedly with the jukebox, not daring to look at Brian's impatient face. "Yeah," he nodded again, "alright. I won't go to Tommy's concerts." He straightened out and looked Brian in the eyes. There was some familiar look in Curt's eyes he had seen often, but Brian couldn't quite remember what it was. Curt went silent and Brian thought Curt might be waiting for him to talk. There was something very uncomfortable about this, something nagging at Brian, but he couldn't see what was wrong.

"Well, I've gotta go now--" Brian said, observing Curt cautiously. Yes, there was definitely something wrong here. This was all too easy.

"You can go," Curt responded, "but first…" Curt pressed a button on the jukebox and a song jumped to life that drained the color from Brian's face. "First," Curst repeated, except with a smug smile this time, "you're gonna have to dance with me."

Brian opened his mouth to protest but Curt snatched Brian's makeup bag faster than an expert pickpocket and raced through the bar.

"Curt!" Brian yelled and sped after him, "Curt give that back to me!" But Curt was pasted all reasoning as usual and jumped on an empty table, with little more force than he expected and almost slipped off. Brian stopped short at the table and growled, "_Curt_, get down from there right now and give me my bag."

"_Brian_," Curt mimicked, "get up here right now and dance with me!"

Brian noticed people were beginning to turn to the source of commotion and knew he had a very limited amount of time before people began putting two and two together, thanks for that recent outburst by that damn reporter.

"Curt," he warned, "people are staring--"

"Then I'm gonna look like a damn fool dancing up here by myself."

"Curt--"

"Bum, bum, bum," Curt sang the words of "Satellite of Love" into a spoon while he spun around the table and Brian felt his resolve melting and his heart quickening. Oh, how he wanted to get up and dance like the old days with not a care to innocent observers. But times had changed now. Things were…different, stricter. Why couldn't Curt see that? But then again, wasn't it Curt's obliviousness to what others thought of him what drew Brian to Curt in the first place? That obliviousness that Curt was clearly displaying as he took off his shirt and twirled it in the air. The small audience in the bar laughed and Brian put his hand over his mouth to hide his laughter. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He banished his thoughts and once again tried to persuade Curt down.

"Curt—can we continue talking somewhere more private?"

"I don't want to talk," Curt replied stubbornly with his arms folded across his chest like a child. "I want to dance. Now, either you get up here right away, or I'm gonna have to force you up."

"Curt, will you just--" but Curt had already jumped onto the floor and swooped Brian off his feet. "No--I---you're impossible!" Brian struggled against his bonds and suddenly remembered a certain day at the beach—

Curt let him down on the table but kept his arm hooked around Brian's waist so he couldn't get away and began dancing and singing with his face against Brian's, "Satellite of love, Sat-el-lite of…" Brian got lost somewhere in Curt's voice that drowned all other sounds out of his ears, the soft feeling of Curt's cheek brushing his own, Curt's warm body against his. He didn't know how long he allowed it to go on, but after a few moments Brian snapped back. Tommy Stone snapped back. Hell, he was so confused. He pulled himself away from Curt so violently that he almost slipped off the table. Curt gave him a confused look which melted into one of hurt.

Curt cleared his throat before he said, "Bri, am I gonna have to call a priest to exorcise Tommy Stone?" Brian turned away from Curt and without a moments warning broke down into sobs. Curt was there quickly to the rescue and wrapped his arms around his lover. It was impossible to describe Curt's embrace. Impossible to describe that kind of comfort, that security. That feeling that no one else can give you that makes all your fears wash away as though they were mere grains of sand up against the pull of the tide.

Brian's looked up at him with sad deer eyes and stammered, "I…I…" Where to begin? _I'm sorry. I missed you. I love you. I will never let it happen again…_which was most important, most immediate? But when he gazed into Curt's eyes he felt all his uncertainty dissolve.

"You don't have to say it, mate," Curt smiled and brought Brian into a soft kiss that started innocently enough but soon exploded with a passion that had been caged and hidden for much too long. The little audience in the bar they had forgotten about cheered. When they broke apart Curt was afraid he might die of an exploding heart. Has anyone died from loving too much? He hoped not, because if anyone did he was sure he would meet his doom on that table. But then again, it must be a wonderful way to die. Feeling excessively giddy, Curt gave the audience an exaggerated bow. Brian laughed like he used to in the old days, and, god, did it feel good to laugh again. He suddenly noticed a girl in a red jacket standing next to the table with a pen and paper in hand.

"Excuse me," she said, "aren't you Tommy Stone?"

"Tommy who?" he asked pleasantly and watched her smile fall. She mumbled a never mind and started to scurry away.

"I'm Curt Wild," Curt offered to her, but she just gave him a confused and empty gaze and continued on her away. Curt might have been disappointed but Brian was laughing that glorious rich laughter that his ears had been aching for for such a long time.

"Shall we continue somewhere more private?" Curt said hopefully, hooking his arm in Brian's.

Brian smiled.

Everyone had already gone back to ordering their drinks and talking politely so no one noticed when the two mysterious characters disappeared out the back door, like figures in a dream, the only evidence of their presence was a small makeup bag lying abandoned on the table.

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I know, I know, crazy fluffy, but it couldn't be helped. Please tell me what I did, good or bad, I don't care, any type of feedback is loved. Review for me, and I'll return the favor!


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